You Know
by Alesford
Summary: <html><head></head>You don't know a lot of things, but there is one thing that you do know-Santana. One-shot. Brittana.</html>


**A/N: Hey, folks. I'm not sure what came over me; I was brainstorming for a new Faberry fic and Brittana sort of stumbled out instead. Regardless, here we go! Hope you enjoy, and please review if you read.**

**Disclaimer: "Glee" does not belong to me.**

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><p><strong>You Know<strong>

You have never seen her so beautiful, which is a feat because you have seen her in oversized sweats with no makeup and thought she was gorgeous. Tonight, however, she's dressed to the nines, and even though you're not quite sure what that phrase means, you heard Rachel sing it that one time in glee, and it sounded impressive. You see her standing next to Karofsky, her fakest, bitchiest smile plastered on her face, and you know she isn't really enjoying all of this. She doesn't really care about the crown or Kurt or glee or even Karofsky (well, maybe a little bit about glee, but you know she would never admit that).

She cares about you.

You don't really know books that well, and you're just as unsure as most people how you've managed to get this far in school without being held back a year or placed with the special ed. kids. You know music and dancing and cats. But if there's one thing that you know best, it's Santana.

You know she loves you; you love her, too, after all. You know that she cries easily and really prefers Converse and jeans and hoodies to those cute little outfits she's been wearing since you quit the Cheerios. You know she doesn't wear what she likes because she's still afraid of being seen as a Lebanese, and she thinks those clothes will make it obvious to the world.

You know she's scared. She's scared of being herself in a small town in Ohio. She's scared of being trapped. She's scared of being hurt. Most importantly, you know, she's scared of losing you.

You tried explaining to her that she still has you, but you have Artie and it would be unfair to him when you care about him, too. You know she's angry and in pain, and sometimes she has sad eyes like Quinn.

You know Santana better than you know most things. And in that moment on prom night, when you see her standing with the other nominees for Prom King and Queen, you know that you have never been more in love with somebody in your whole life and you're not sure you ever will be for the rest of it.

You're so busy watching the procession that you don't hear the wheelchair squeak to a stop beside you until Artie taps your hand and you glance down to see his gently smiling face. He's holding the cup of punch he said he'd get you but that you'd forgotten about the second you saw Santana, and he's looking at you in a way that's different than he normally does. You don't quite know what this means.

"You should go to her," he says. It sounds like a whisper, but you know it's not because the music is loud and some people are still dancing and some people are cheering and some people are booing. But you hear it loud and clear, and you look at him with obvious confusion.

"I don't want to be the one to hold you back from something better," he explains. "I saw you watching her, and you look at her in a way that you've never looked at me. I know you care about me, Britt. But you love her." He tilted his head towards the makeshift dais.

He reaches out and takes your hand, and he squeezes it in a way that makes you want to cry and hug him because he understands. You smile at him; you think you might have hurt him again and you're sorry, but you know he's right.

You lean down and you press your lips to his cheek before you bound through the crowd, heels and all, and the announcer stutters in his speech as you stop nose to nose with Santana. The room seems to quiet, and you're not sure if people are actually quiet or if all the noise got sucked away when you took Santana's hands in yours.

"I do love you," you tell her. "I know you, and I know you love me, too. So can we try again and make it right this time?"

She looks like a deer caught in headlights, and the world hasn't seemed to melt away for her like it has for you because her eyes keep flickering from yours to somewhere past your shoulder. You know the indecision warring between her head and her heart, but you can see it in her eyes just before she nods the most subtle nod.

"I love you. I just want _you_," she whispers, and her eyes are shining with tears and she's getting blurry and you realize that you're almost crying, too.

"I only want you, Santana. I love you, too. I always have."

She kisses you, and you smile against her lips, and everything seems right this time, even if there's a loud applause in the background and it's totally disrupting your makeup moment with Santana.


End file.
